


Carabosse and the Thieves

by DespiteWhatShouldBeOtherwise



Category: Lupin III
Genre: Also some downright horrific implications surrounding several plates of Kholodets, Changing tags in relation to the new chapter, Gen, I'm not using archive warnings, Mild Gore, Minor Character Death, Nothing too graphic and I won't go into a detailed description, also Goemon straight up kills someone, and some body parts get separated from someone's body offscreen, but a guy is shot on screen, but there is some edgy stuff here, edgy stuff, for instance, he’s done it before and he’s done it again, like i said, limbs are cut off on screen, mild violence, we don’t dwell on it too much
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-01-16 22:50:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21279032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DespiteWhatShouldBeOtherwise/pseuds/DespiteWhatShouldBeOtherwise
Summary: Jigen knew how this worked by now; Lupin would find them a job, Fujiko would show up out of nowhere wanting to get in on the said job and then she would double-cross them to take the loot for herself while he and Lupin were left running for their lives...He just never considered what might happen after they supposedly got away...





	1. No. 1- L'entrée de Carabosse

**Author's Note:**

> Okay then! My first foray into writing for Lupin the Third... and it's an edgy modern re-imagining of Sleeping Beauty. No really. The parallels and references are most definitely not an accident. The whole thing began with an idea for a scene and it just spiraled out of control from there. As I said, this fic does get edgy in later chapters, and I think I about covered everything in the Tags without spoiling too much, but if I forgot something then please just let me know! In any case, thanks for checking this out! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Moscow was silent and frigid that night. The normally busy and bustling city was instead still as the grave without a soul to be seen anywhere. Snow fell gently on the pavement and rooftops, glowing in the light of the street lamps and flickering neon signs of the shops that were still open at the current hour. The silence was broken only by the sound of the car as it rumbled quietly through the streets. All was peaceful. All was still. And Nanochka Karaboss believed that there could be no better night for someone to die.  
  
The thought made him smile as his car cut silently through the roads and boulevards. It had been an excellent night so far, dinner of his grandmother’s Borscht and dessert of his mother’s Pirozhki, he was in a good mood already. And if all continued to go well tonight, someone would be dead by morning. Perhaps it would be one of the thieves they’d caught trying to leave the city. Two men in total. They’d struck the Tretyakov Gallery earlier that day, making off with Vereshchagin’s 1812 series and disappearing into the city. Nanochka didn’t find such an occurrence that odd. The collection was world-famous after all, and the thief’s reputation preceded him. It was no surprise that law enforcement had failed where Nanochka’s men had succeeded.  
  
What he _did_ find odd, was the fact that neither of the men were in possession of the missing paintings they’d gone through so much trouble to steal. This one fact, this reminder that in the end, his men had ultimately failed him, did nothing to wipe the smile from Nanochka’s face. No matter. The location of the collection would be revealed in due time. And if it wasn’t, then punishment was still to be expected. His men had failed, after all.  
  
Nanochka’s car continued through the night, streetlights playing hypnotically along the hood. Next to him, Tikhanovich continued to clean his gun, oblivious to the occasional bump and sway of the car. Perhaps he’d have the gunman shoot out their kneecaps… No. That was too cliche, even for a man in Nanochka’s line of work. He’d allow his driver to negotiate with them… The phrase still sounded odd to him. Most Pakhan wouldn’t let their drivers take care of anything other than getting from point A to point B. But Nanochka had personally recruited the man. He’d be able to squeeze something out of the thieves.  
  
The engine cut out as Nanochka settled on a plan. He’d try diplomacy first. If they didn’t cooperate, then his driver would speak to them for a bit. If they remained un-cooperative, or if they couldn’t give them what he wanted, Tikhanovich would put a bullet in one of their skulls. Speaking of Tikhanovich, the gunman holstered his weapon before leaving the car to scan the area. How typical of a gunman to be paranoid. The warehouse was secure, no one other than Nanochka’s men even knew of the place. And speaking of his men, Nanochka could just make out Alexei making his way towards the car. He’d better get out there before Tikhanovich shot him or something. Fixing his features into a grimace that betrayed nothing of the delight he was feeling, Nanochka Karaboss stepped out of the car and glowered at the approaching man.  
  
“Boss…” Alexei panted, fear painted clearly on his features. It appeared his talk with the two men had not gone well. No matter, that was why Nanochka had come. Nodding to the two men behind him, he began to march towards the warehouse, Tikhanovich and driver falling into step on either side of him. The driver was a mountain of a man, hard muscle visible beneath his suit and coat and his jaw clenched in a perpetual grimace. Tikhanovich, while not quite as mountainous, was tall and as long-legged as Nanochka himself. Both men were perfectly intimidating and Alexei jogged to keep up with the three as he continued to prattle on. “We’ve tried talking with them extensively, but they’re both uncooperative.” A shiver of excitement went down Nanochka’s spine and he struggled to keep his features neutral. Tonight would be fun. “I even tried offering a deal…” Now that caught his attention.  
  
“And what of mine did you promise these thieves Alexei?” Nanochka asked slowly and Alexei gave a frightened little jump before sputtering to come up with some kind of excuse. It was fun, getting a rise out of the other man. Of course Nanochka knew Alexei, and he knew that any deal he promised would likely be null and void the second the men agreed and coughed up any information. He knew Alexei wasn’t that much of a fool to go making promises he couldn’t keep. But that didn’t mean Alexei had to know that.  
  
The four men entered the warehouse with a slam of the door and the other men perked up like meerkats, standing at attention as soon as they saw Nanochka enter. In the center of the spacious room, surrounded by the best armed guards Nanochka could find, were the two thieves, sitting bound and bloodied in a pair of chairs. He gave them a quick once over. Good. Alexei hadn’t roughed them up too bad. They’d still have some feeling left in their bodies.  
  
He strode forward and pulled out a cigar, still struggling not to break out into a grin as he surveyed the two men before him. With a curt nod, his driver strode forward, match struck and ready without so much as a word. Nanochka inhaled, smoke filling his lungs and warming his insides. The night in Moscow was silent and frigid and it was a perfect night for someone to die.  
  
Feeling better than he had in months, Nanochka bent forward to address the two men by blowing a puff of smoke in their faces. Neither of them so much as flinched. They must be heavy smokers.  
  
“You have excellent taste in art gentlemen.” Nanochka straightened and took another puff on his cigar. “The 1812 series by Vasily Vasilyevich Vereshchagin. Fourteen paintings depicting Napoleon’s Russian Campaign of 1812. Fourteen works of art detailing the gruesome reality of human suffering during a time when artists glorified war and deified the military as crusading heroes.” He paused, images of the collection playing across his memory and he allowed himself a small, wistful smile. “As you can tell, I’m rather fond of the collection.” Another pause, another puff. “I would very much like them back.” He didn’t expect the speech to get to the men so easily. They were thieves, professionals. Sentimental value meant nothing to them. They probably thought he was kind of pathetic by now. Perfect.  
  
“I assume my associate has already spoken to you about a possible deal for the paintings. Perhaps he tried to purchase them back.” He shot a glare at Alexei, just for show, just to see the other man jump and blubber with fear. “What he failed to realize, is that I don’t like paying for things that are already mine.” Another pause, another puff, let them process the implications of that statement. They were obviously smart men, to rob the Tretyakov Gallery with only the two of them. They could figure it out. And Nanochka could present them with a tempting carrot to escape the stick. “So, if you tell me right now where my collection is, I’ll forgive you.” He paused again, glancing at their faces, gauging their reactions. Nothing so far. It was time to sweeten the deal, divulge the details a bit. “You can go back to your hotel, back on a flight to whatever shithole country you both came from. I’ll even buy you the tickets. We’ll forget this whole mess ever happened.”  
  
In Nanochka’s experience, most men would often jump at the offer. Perhaps their conscience would get the better of them and they’d confess everything. Or perhaps it was their fear and their innate desire to see another day. Either way, they would confess and Nanochka would be left with a feeling of bitter disappointment comparable to a falcon who’s prey had slipped elusively between its talons.  
  
But tonight? Neither man had so much as budged.  
  
“No?” The men remained quiet again. And inside, Nanochka rejoiced. Tonight would be fun after all. He nodded curtly to his driver again and the mountain of a man strode forward. Stepping back to let him take charge of negotiations, Nanochka threw one final comment flippantly over his shoulder with a flick of his cigar. “Perhaps you’ll be more cooperative speaking with Tit.”  
  
Of all the things Nanochka had expected going into this talk tonight, he hadn’t thought that one comment would get to them.  
  
It started slowly at first, one of the men bent over against the ropes, convulsing as his shoulders shook violently. Nanochka whirled around, surprised. Was he crying in terror? Was he afraid of what fate awaited him at the hands of his driver? Had Nanochka’s bullshit sentimental speech about art gotten to him after all? And then, the man in the red jacket and yellow tie threw his head back with a braying cry, tears rolling down his cheeks.  
  
Wait... He wasn’t crying...  
  
Was he…?  
  
Was he actually _laughing_?  
  
His companion, the man with the hat and beard, groaned and slumped against his bonds as his partner continued to laugh hysterically.  
  
“Boss?” He muttered, exasperated. “I don’t think that’s a good idea right now.” The man in the red jacket calmed down slightly, turning his head to address his partner.  
  
“But Jigen!” He whined, still giggling. “His name’s literally ‘Tit!’” That caused him to convulse again with even more hysterical laughter as Nanochka and Tit exchanged a confused glance. Meanwhile, the man in the hat just groaned again, sank even lower in the chair and continued to mutter vehemently.  
  
“You just had to get Fujiko involved… Again.” That got the other man’s attention and he ceased his laughter to sigh and smile fondly while his partner rolled his eyes.  
  
“Ah Fujiko… wonder how she’s doing right now.” Fujiko? This was news to Nanochka. He’d assumed that only the two men had hit the Gallery. Had there been someone else involved in the heist?  
  
“Who is this Fujiko you’re talking about?” He asked and the man in the red jacket finally turned to acknowledge him.  
  
“My favorite backstabbing little minx!” He announced proudly. The man in the hat scoffed at the response.  
  
“If you’re looking for the collection,” he was addressing Nanochka now. “She’s probably got it.” He said. “And she’s probably long gone by now.” The man in the red jacket turned in his chair and actually tried to kick his partner in the shin.  
  
“Hey!” He yelled. “Why are you ratting her out?”  
  
“Because she double crossed us!”  
  
“Well she wouldn’t be a very good backstabbing little minx if she didn’t!” The man replied. He was no longer laughing, or even smiling. “Jeesh, what’s got you so cranky tonight?”  
  
“Because she sold us out to the freakin’ Bratva!” And by then, Nanochka had enough.  
  
“Gentlemen!” He boomed and the thieves stopped their squabbling to look at him. “I do not wish to hear about whatever marital issues the two of you may have.” The thieves opened their mouths, as if to protest. “I am only interested in one thing. What have you done with the 1812 series?” The men stared at him again, almost as though Nanochka was the one being studied instead of them.  
  
“It’s like my partner here said,” The man in the red jacket announced. “An associate of ours double crossed us and ran off with the paintings. She’s probably long gone by now.” So there had been a third party involved… This Fujiko woman... Nanochka weighed his options carefully as he gestured at Tit to stand down. He didn’t like making deals, didn’t like paying for things that were already his. Both of these men already knew that. But perhaps other options would be more enticing than the violence he'd promised.  
  
“How about a deal, gentlemen?” He asked. “You’ve obviously been in contact with this ‘Fujiko.’” He paused once again. “And obviously it has not worked well for either of you. If you can bring her, and the collection back to Moscow, then my offer still stands. You will be forgiven and we can pretend this little incident never happened.” There was no hesitation from either man.  
  
“Not interested.”  
  
“I’m interested.” And the exchange led to another kick in the shings for the man in the hat. Nanochka wondered how the hell both of these men had robbed the Tretyakov Gallery, had made a name for themselves in the criminal world if this was how they worked together. Really, they weren’t on the same page at all regarding this woman.  
  
“Are you sure gentlemen?” Nanochka interrupted. “Because I can assure you that if my collection is not returned to me,” He almost ruined it there and then by smiling, daring the men to oppose him. It took a Herculean effort to keep his features straight and to fix both men with an icy glare that promised a fate worse than death. “There will not be a person in the world who can save either one of you.” The man in the hat reacted accordingly, going stiff in fear. He was scared, and Nanochka could tell. Perhaps they could get him to cooperate. And then, another thing he had not expected happened that night. The man in the red jacket smiled the exact same, manic grin that Nanochka had been holding back all night and Nanochka wanted nothing more than to return that mad smirk.  
  
“You actually think you're threatening us?” The man cooed. “That's just adorable.” And before Nanochka could even formulate a reply, the man moved, kicking his legs up as something came flying off his feet. Before Nanochka could even shout a warning, Tikhanovich had drawn, shooting both shoes out of the air before they could even reach anyone. A small explosion later and the warehouse was engulfed in thick cloying smoke and the shouts of Nanochka’s men in the background. Shots rang out and somewhere in the din, he heard Tikhanovich give a pained cry followed by the clatter of a gun hitting the floor. Glass shattered, shapes moved through the smoke towards a window that had just been shot out and as the warehouse cleared Nanochka caught two flashes, one red, one black, fleeing out the window. The whole thing had happened in under a minute.  
  
Without any hesitation, Nanochka gave another shout. “Tit! Tikhanovich!” and both men sprinted to the window with him, guns out, ready to fire as soon as Nanochka gave the word. He remained silent, the other man’s smirk etched in his mind. They watched as both men dived into Nanochka’s car, peeling out into the street and still Nanochka said nothing.  
  
And the man in the red jacket, the man known as Arsène Lupin the Third, vanished into the night.  
  
His men began barking orders behind him and all Nanochka could think about was that damn smile. It hadn’t been an act, a false sense of bravado to placate his companion, nor had it been a desperate attempt of Lupin’s to assure himself that everything would turn out fine.  
  
It had been a challenge.  
  
The crazy son of a bitch thought he could steal from Nanochka and get away with it.  
  
And unseen by the other men, his smile widened in anticipation. Lupin wanted a challenge, and Nanochka was all too happy to oblige.  
  
“Alexei!” He barked and the coward himself stepped forward.  
  
“Sir…” He sputtered as tears filled his blue eyes, apologies for his failures, promises to do better next time tripping over each other to try and be the first out of his mouth.  
  
He didn’t even get a single sentence out before Nanochka shot him between bright blue eyes.  
  
All around, the other men stilled, staring at what had just transpired before awaiting their next orders. It took him a moment, Lupin’s words playing over and over again in his head. What should his next move be?  
  
“_You actually think you're threatening us? That's just adorable._” Lupin hadn’t said him… He’d said “us…” Him and his partner…  
Yes…  
  
They would both see just how threatening Nanockha Karaboss could truly be.  
  
“Get this mess cleaned up.” He announced “The Politsiya can overlook a lot if given the right motivation, but murder under their noses is not something I want to explain. Also…” He paused, regarding the fresh corpse of Alexei, still laying on the ground, ideas turning through is brain. “Bring that along. It might still be of use to us. Tit, Tikhanovich, we’re moving out.” The men bustled to work not even a second after he gave the word and his two right hand men fell into step beside him once again. Leaving the warehouse, leaving his men behind, the grin Nanochka had been holding back for what felt like forever was at last allowed to bloom on his face.  
  
The night in Moscow was silent, frigid, and in Nanochka Karaboss’ humble opinion, Russia could use far more nights like these.


	2. No. 2- Déjeuner et excuses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three criminals settle down for a little lunch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter up and ready to go! Honestly, this might have been my favorite chapter to write, mostly because I love the snark Lupin and Jigen throw at each other and this is basically a chapter dedicated to just that! As per usual, if I missed anything in the tags, just let me know and I’ll try to get it fixed up as soon as I can. Something else I forgot to mention last chapter: when it comes to criticism on my fics, it’s open season. Go nuts. In any case, I Hope you enjoy the chapter!

“What do you mean you’re bailing!?” The cry rang out, harsh against the mellow atmosphere of the restaurant. Across from Lupin, Jigen cringed and sunk down in his chair. Normally he wouldn’t mind Lupin throwing a tantrum in public, (okay, maybe he _would_ mind a little bit…) but causing a scene in a high class joint like this and causing a scene in the middle of a crowded street were two different things.

“Would you keep it down?” He winced and sank a bit lower. Lupin continued his rant; either he didn’t hear Jigen’s request over his braying, or he just didn’t care enough to acknowledge it.

“You can’t bail on me before a job Jigen! I can’t do this without you!” Rolling his eyes, Jigen poked his stroganoff around his plate.

“That’s a lie and you know it.” He grumbled.

“No really, I need a guy who can shoot out tires from 600 meters and I don’t see anyone else around here who can!”

“You know, you could always do it yourself Boss.” Lupin glowered, mumbled something about him and Goemon being busy with the cops, and began to pick at his kholodets. For a moment, a very long moment, the two men remained silent as the low din of the other patrons filled the air between them.

“Is it because of what went down in Moscow?” Over the years, Jigen had seen firsthand Lupin’s downright uncanny ability to read people and situations. Often, the thief would be able to predict what any given person was thinking or feeling, be they ally or target, before it had even registered within their own brains. That or he’d be so far off the mark it was almost comical. In this particular instance, Jigen’s reaction to the mere mention of Moscow, a notable stiffening in the shoulders, a clenched jaw and a subtle refusal to meet the other man’s eyes, should have been enough of an answer for Lupin. The thief set his knife and fork down with a small clatter, face suddenly turning grim. “Jigen,” He implored as he leaned closer to the gunman.

“What?”

“Look me in the eyes and promise me that you’re not actually scared of a man named ‘Tit.’”  
  
Oh goddamnit he was way off the mark!

“It’s not him I’m worried about!” Jigen sighed angrily as the disaster named “Moscow” came to mind. It was supposed to be a simple art theft. Go in, get the paintings, put the fakes in their place, get out. Nothing they hadn’t done before. Simple. Easy.

Of course, that was before Fujiko had stuck her nose in their business as per fucking usual. He’d known the second she’d shown up out of nowhere at their safe house, all heavy perfume and fluttering lashes and long legs, that the job was going to go belly up. And lo and behold.

He was right.

_Again. _  
  
She’d tipped off one of those bastards to their plan and had gotten away with the 1812 Collection scot free while he and Lupin had barely made it out of Moscow. They hadn’t even had time to put the forgeries in the museum. Now they were just collecting dust in the back of their car. Hard work and planning and all that went to show for it was a waste of resources and an angry Mob after their heads.

That had been days ago. Days of ducking in and out of towns between Moscow and Petropavlovsk-Kamchatskiy, stealing the odd little trinket here and there and likely leaving a neat little paper-trail for the men in Moscow to follow. And yet, it had been days since Jigen had seen head or hide of anyone resembling a member of the Bratva. Perhaps they’d decided he and Lupin weren’t worth the trouble and had shifted their focus to looking for Fujiko. Either that or they still had something planned for the two thieves and it was just taking a while. In any case, Jigen’s instincts had never led him wrong before, and right now they were screaming at him to get the hell out of Russia and put as much distance between himself and Moscow and anything that had to do with communism or the color red.

As Lupin tucked into his plate of kholodets, Jigen sighed, turning these thoughts over and over in his head as he continued to pick at his own food. He wasn’t scared, not yet anyways. He was on edge, and a bit more nervous than he was used to being, and Lupin’s natural refusal to take anything seriously wasn’t helping matters one bit, but he was not scared. Sighing again, clearing out his head, Jigen went right back to tracing meaningless circles over his plate while considering his next words carefully.

“Back when I worked for Malone,” He began, and Lupin actually paused in his eating, snapping up to meet his partner’s grey eyes. Jigen was normally like an oyster, an oyster with great taste in suits and hats but an oyster nonetheless. If something didn’t need mentioning or talking about, you’d get nothing out of him. He didn’t like doing it, but if one thing could get Lupin’s attention it was mentioning his old boss. And he could really use Lupin’s full attention at the moment. “Back then, we had a saying when it came to the other Mobs. You piss off the Mafia, they get angry. You piss off the Yakuza, they get even. You piss off the Bratva-”

“They wax poetic about stolen paintings?” Lupin interrupted, rolling his eyes. Organized crime was part and parcel in their line of work. Together, they’d gone up against the Mafia, the Yakuza, even the Milieu, and practically no one had heard of the Milieu. But that was together, and they’d always gotten the hell out of Dodge when things started going sideways. Plus, Lupin had always steered clear of Russia, or at least clear of the Bratva. Jigen had not been so lucky in his lifetime. And as Lupin continued to eat, he couldn’t help but regard his boss’s plate with a look of barely subdued nausea.

“They get creative…” He muttered, still staring queasily at Lupin’s plate and that urge to just bolt and get the hell out of Russia rose up again. Forcing memories of glittering smiles and the scrape of knives against plates out of his head, he sat up and regarded the other man. It wouldn’t be the _first_ time Jigen had split after a job. Besides, Lupin wasn’t some spoiled Mafia heir or someone who needed constant babysitting. The guy was a freaking genius, provided no attractive members of the opposite sex were around. He’d get into trouble, sure, but he was smart enough to get himself out of it just as quick. Lupin would be just fine if Jigen took off for a bit.  
  
Right?  
  
Across the table, Lupin had paid no mind to Jigen’s answer, still stuffing his face, completely oblivious. 

Oh shit he was gonna get himself killed.  
  
“Hey, you should head back to the states with me Boss. Take it easy, lay low for a bit...” That earned a snort as Lupin continued to dig into his meal.

“Lay low? Now? I’m on a roll here Jigen!”

“So what do you call Moscow then?”

“That doesn’t count.”

“And that jewelry collection in Krasnoyarsk? When I had to be the bait on the fly?”

“We have the same ring size! Who else was gonna be my decoy? Besides, I broke you out of that gulag in the end, so it doesn’t count either!”

“Of course it doesn’t.” The two lapsed into silence once again, Lupin finishing up the kholodets on his plate and Jigen taking some time to admire the sight of the mountain from the window. This place really did have a great view. All the while, Lupin grumbled to himself as he finished his lunch. Goemon would be arriving soon and they had to get going.

“Not gonna eat?” He asked and Jigen glanced from his plate to Lupin before pushing it towards the center of the table.

“Lost my appetite.” Lupin shrugged nonchalantly as both men stood to leave.

“You’re loss. That kholodet stuff’s pretty great, even if it looks disgusting.” He smacked his lips and gave Jigen an unexpected elbow to the ribs. “Seriously, you gotta to eat more. I can practically feel my weight drop just looking at you.” The remark earned a bark of laughter from Jigen.

“Who are you, my Grandma?”

“For god’s sake, eat a hamburger or something!”

“I’ll pass Grandma.” The two stepped through the threshold, the cold afternoon sunshine blinding after the muted candlelight of the restaurant. Out in the open, deft fingers pulled a cigarette from the carton before searching for a lighter in the coat pockets. Lupin was, as usual, a step ahead of the game and held out a flickering lighter. Grunting his thanks, Jigen pulled in a deep breath and held the warm smoke in his lungs for a bit. Beside him, Lupin had lit his own cigarette and the two stood together for a few moments.

“So you’re really serious about taking a break?” Jigen sighed another plume of smoke, excuses and explanations playing across his mind and vying to be on the tip of his tongue. No need for any of them really. Lupin might be raising hell over it now, but experience told Jigen that it was mostly just for the sake of raising hell. Lupin didn’t really need to hear any long, drawn out ramblings of a paranoid gunman. Short and to the point should be more than enough.

“Look,” Jigen began. “I’m not gonna just up and leave in the middle of a job.” Lupin stubbed his cigarette out on the wall and gave no clue he’d heard Jigen. That had been a stupid way to start, when had Jigen ever done that? “But once we get whatever it is you want this week, I’m on the first plane I can get to the U.S.”

“Fair enough.” Lupin replied as he shrugged and ground his cigarette against the wall. “You enjoy your vacation, and in the meantime, I’ll write up a Help Wanted ad for a new gunslinger. Maybe I’ll get a sexy Russian sniper!” And with that, the thief pushed himself off the wall and whatever quip Jigen had in response would have to wait. “Hey! Goemon!” Lupin called out to the bundled up samurai and Jigen took a final drag before stubbing his cigarette out and striding over to join them.

“Next time,” The samurai muttered bitterly as he brushed a layer of snow off his Suegasa. “I would appreciate being called on in the summer.” Lupin chuckled as the three set off down the street..

“With that attitude you ought to go to L.A. or something with Jigen after this job.” Goemon blinked and turned his attention towards Jigen.

“Laying low?”

“For a little bit.” He replied. Goemon nodded and that was the end of that.

“I wish you the best.” He replied before turning to address the other thief. “So tell me Lupin, what’s in Petar-Petropak-” After several seconds of trying and failing to pronounce “Petropavlovsk-Kamchatskiy,” while Lupin and Jigen tried in vain to hide their snickers, Goemon gave up entirely. “What’s in this city that caught your attention?” In response, Lupin’s grin grew wider and he bore a striking resemblance the wolves he shared a name with.

“Gentlemen, we’re going after the Romanov Eggs.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Back at Pryalka, the man with the bandaged hand who’d been sipping his afternoon martini peacefully for about two hours, stood up from the bar and dropped several bills and coins on the counter for payment. He stalked past the table that once held two strange men, out the door and pulled his collar up against the cold wind before pulling out his cellphone.

From what the man could tell, they still had about one day before everything went down. A public flight could get from Moscow to Petrobavlovsk-Kamchatskiy in approximately 8 hours and 20 minutes. A privately chartered jet could likely make it there in almost half the time. The boss had been right about where the two men were headed, but they’d still have to move fast if they wanted everything to work. Calculations complete in his mind, Tikhanovich strode down the street, away from the three men talking and laughing loudly, and dialed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of a break from their ordeal in Chapter 1 was in order. For the curious minds, Kholodets, or Aspic is a dish where meat is prepped and set in jello made from some kind of meat stock. Apparently, it takes seven hours to prepare. Also, Petropavlovsk-Kamchatsky is a real place, and it really does have an incredible view of a mountain. In other news, thanks go out to Quillheart and ThatOneOctopus for leaving comments on the last chapter. More thanks go out to Kamisa and two guests who left Kudos as well. As always, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy the next chapter!


	3. No. 3- Le Vol et le Malédiction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And then there were two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another one up and ready to go! Honestly, I don’t have much to say in relation to opening notes, just that this marks the last time we’ll see one of the characters in one piece for quite a while. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy!

Up from the floor, head for the large double doors. Through them to the main hallway, make a right, scan id and head towards the archives, left again, right… No one paid any mind to the two janitors wheeling the cleaning supplies down the hallways of the museum. No one ever did. Left here, then a right, left, straight ahead for two corridors, down the stairs… The hallways of the Museum Archives were practically empty, devoid of anything save for the the occasional passerby. Left, then another right aaaand….........

The door stood before the two men, imposing, cold, billed as unopenable save for the select few privileged enough to work with the so-called priceless artifacts that lay within.

Or anyone smart enough to bypass a simple electronic lock…

Reaching into the cleaning cart, one of the janitors pulled out two things. The first, a rather odd looking contraption, something resembling an electronic alarm clock attached to several wires and electrodes. The second, a plain, metallic attache case. He left the case on the floor and set about attaching the wired device door. Meanwhile, his companion pulled a mop from the cart and proceeded to yank the woven head completely off the wooden handle. He’d just tossed the head down the hall with disdain when the odd device on the door beeped cheerily and the vault opened with a resounding “Clunk.”

“Might as well ditch the onesies Goemon.” The man said, peeling off his own uniform to reveal a bright red jacket underneath. Barely a moment later, Zantetsuken shredded the janitor’s uniform to bits. Freed from the uniform, Goemon grabbed the case and followed Lupin through the open door.

The vault was practically stuffed with various jewels and trinkets, each said to be owned by the very finest of Russian Royalty. Statistically speaking, about half of them were also fakes, but the true prize lay ahead, nestled on a small pedestal in the very center of the room, encased in nothing but glass.

With cautious fingers, Lupin lifted the top of the glass case to marvel at the glittering clutch of fabergé eggs, each encrusted with jewels of various sizes, shapes and colors. The Romanov Eggs, each one worth a few million to the right parties, right there for the taking. Goemon eyed the eggs as he handed Lupin the case. While the samurai was not one for earthly pleasures, he would have been a fool to deny that the collection was impressive. Still grinning widely, Lupin reached out and plucked one, a deep blue coated with Sapphires and diamonds, off the pedestal…

The effect was immediate. No sooner had the egg left it’s resting place than the alarms blared to life as several steel panels descended from the ceiling, sealing off all exits, boxing them in the room without a single hope for escape.

…

Seriously?

That’s what passed for a fail-proof security system nowadays? Steel plates on the walls? Were it not for the fact that Lupin was about to practically walk out of there with a few million rubles in glitzed-out eggs, he’d be insulted.

With a simple nod and a flash of metal stronger than steel, the wall of the vault fell away and the game was afoot. In the distance, Lupin vaguely heard the thundering footsteps of what had to be dozens of armed guards with the booming voice of the head honcho or whoever was in charge barking orders. Silently, the thief wished them luck before mentallly retracing the route through the archives. _Turn right, head down the corridor, then a left, retrace your steps aaaand…_

They came face to face with a horde of armed guards for a split second before Goemon grabbed Lupin and yanked him down an adjacent hallway. They were off running again and Lupin grinned once again, recalling his brilliant plan in head...

“_So, we enter through the sewer system here and the eggs are kept in this storeroom over here in the archives._”

“_And when someone sees you and Goemon wandering through the hallway?_”

“_Why do you think I grabbed the janitor stuff Jigen? Anyway, security’s a bit of a joke in the hallways, but apparently whatever’s inside the vault is serious business._”

“_And you have no idea what’s in there, do you._”

“_Not quite Goemon, I know that the eggs are on one of those pressure sensitive plate thingies. Once you take them off, security kicks in._”

“_And what kind of security would that be Boss?_”

“_Now now, where’s the fun in knowing everything about some simple museum’s security system before you completely outclass it?_”

“_And what do you propose we do to avoid triggering these pressure plates? Perhaps a bag of sand?_”

“_Nope. We’re just gonna waltz in there and take the eggs._”

“_Wait, you mean you WANT to trip the security in the storeroom?_”

“_Bingo!_”

“_I’ll need to reconsider my position on this job then. _”

“_Goemon, don’t get up and leave! You haven’t heard the rest of the plan yet!_”

“_Lupin, I am not in the mood to accompany you on a job where you’re actually planning on getting us caught. _”

“_Just here me out you two, I have a plan… _”

Back in the present, guards howled into their communicators as the chase continued.

“They’re heading back towards their prior entry point. We’ll need extra security around the sewer and all connected entryways, now!” And that was exactly what Lupin had been waiting for. He didn’t even have to nod to Goemon this time before they launched themselves vertically into the air, scrambling into the air duct Lupin had carefully dislodged on their way to the vault earlier.

“_You want them to catch you and think you’re going back to the sewer?_”

“_You got it Jigen! That’s why we won’t bother covering up where we got in from. It’s also why we want security to see us heading back in the general direction of said entrance. So while they’re focusing on catching us in the sewer…_”

“_You and I are free to find an exit with less guards._”

“_The Parking Garage!_”

As expected, security had all been ordered to comb the sewers and any entrances to them. There were only about three in the Garage and they were dispatched easily. A tap to the head here, the slice of a sword there and Lupin was free to look for the car he’d parked in an out of the way nook in peace. Goemon kept trying to hurry him up, grumbling something about just taking any old car, but honestly, that leader of the Mafia, or Bratva or whatever Jigen had called them, had excellent taste in cars. Sure, a Marussia was a bit more modern than he liked, but it was fast and it got them out of Moscow and he’d had to steal _something_ from that weird Mafioso guy after the Tretyakov job went up in smoke. And Jigen had wanted him to get rid of it too. Really. If he could pull off several high profile jobs with a bright yellow Fiat or Mercedes as their getaway car and _still_ make a clean getaway, he could avoid a few gangsters here and there in their own car. Honestly. It was starting to feel like his partner had no faith in him whatsoever lately. The nerve of him.

Besides, the Marussia still had the forged 1812 Collection in the trunk and that countess’ ring from Krasnoyarsk in one of the cup holders and one of the two-way radios. He might need those later.

And then the least welcome voice grated against his eardrums, pulling him from his musings.

“LUUUUPIIIINNNNN!!!!” The thief in question whirled around and was greeted by the sight of a familiar fedora and trench coat combo and Lupin could practically hear the police march trumpeting in his head. “THOUGHT YOU’D GET AWAY WITH THE OLD BAIT AND SWITCH ESCAPE ROUTE EH?! NOT LIKELY!!!!!! YOU’RE UNDER ARREST!!!!”

“It would appear the good Inspector is in Russia…” Goemon muttered unhappily as Lupin finally found the Marussia and practically dived through the door.

“How was I supposed to know!?” Lupin rummaged jammed the keys in the ignition furiously. “Pops is supposed to be in Japan. Did you let him tail you here or something?” Before Goemon could reply, the car roared to life and they peeled out of the parking garage, sirens singing behind them. Okay, so they hadn’t expected Pops to be here. That was cool. As long as everything was okay on Jigen’s end, they’d be fine.

Speaking of Jigen, he ought to give the gunman an update on the whole escape plan situation. Fiddling with the knob on his radio, Lupin began to speak into the mouthpiece.

“Hey, Jigen? You’re not gonna believe this! Good Old Pops showed up in the garage.” He paused, turning the car onto the street. “We’re coming your way right now. It might be a little tighter than I thought, but it’s nothing you can’t handle, right?” Ignoring Jigen’s response in favor of swerving around and through oncoming traffic, Lupin gripped the wheel and tuned out Goemon’s complaints from the backseat. Next part was all up to the sharpshooter.

“_There’s still one problem._”

“_In MY plan? No way. _”

“_Be serious here Lupin. Switching up escape routes might work at first, but what are you gonna do when the police spot a car leaving a parking garage that’s supposed to be locked down?_”

“_See, that’s where you come in. I’ll lead them on a merry chase along this route, and you’ll be on standby right over here._”

“_On standby for what?_”

“_Think you can cause a pile up of cop cars by popping a few tires?_”

“_Heh. Like you need to ask._”

“_See? Told you I couldn’t do this job without you! After that, get the hell out of Dodge. Goemon and I will meet with you back here, at this hotel._”

“_I trust you made reservations?_”

“_Naturally. Once we regroup, we’ll find a buyer, split the loot and get absolutely shitfaced. Then Jigen can go on his merry way to Tahiti or whatever and that’ll be that._”

“_Alright, I’m in._”

“_I as well.”_

“_Then it’s settled. We’ll hit the museum tomorrow at 12. By this time tomorrow the Romanov eggs will be ours!_” 

The car sped towards a busy intersection. After this, they’d be in the clear and a couple million rubles richer. 

“You’re up next Jigen.” Lupin grinned as he sped down the street. He closed his eyes for a moment, listening to the shouting of Zenigata from the car in the lead, the wail of the sirens, waiting for the spectacle to reach a climax of squealing brakes, metal scraping against metal preceded by the oh so sweet sound of gunshots ringing out and making way for the sirens to decrescendo as the car sped away from the wreckage… 

Only there were no gunshots... 

Only the sirens were still wailing behind them…  
  
And if Lupin wasn’t mistaken, they were actually getting louder… 

_What the hell Jigen?_ Lupin growled mentaly as he checked the mirror. Sure enough, there were the police, still hot in pursuit, tires still intact and Zenigata still hanging out the window screaming proclamations of arrest at the top of his lungs. 

Son of a goddamn unreliable gun. 

“They don’t seem to be incapacitated…” Goemon quipped from the backseat. 

“I know…” Lupin growled as he gripped the steering wheel. “Just shut up and hang on.” Ignoring Goemon’s protest, he swung the car around towards a narrow alley. Time for some old fashioned crazy driving... 

~~~~~~~~~~ 

Hours, several close calls and nearly a dozen police cars sliced in half later, Lupin and Goemon could finally coast to a stop by the side of the road an heave a sigh of relief. Well, Goemon could. Lupin on the other hand was still fuming. The chase had lasted hours, the Marussia probably had a few new dents and scratches to the paint job and he and Goemon had wound up miles away from where they were supposed to meet Jigen with the eggs. 

And while he was on the topic of the damn gunslinger... 

“Jigen…” He grumbled into the radio as he paced around the car. “What the hell was that? You were supposed to shoot their tires out! Goemon and I had them on our tail for hours because _you_ just had to drop the ball. Well?” His miniature rant was met with nothing but radio static that only served to rile him up further. “Really Jigen? You’re giving me the silent treatment? Real mature. How old are you?” More silence and all the frustration of a perfectly good plan not followed to the letter boiled over. 

“I swear Jigen if you don’t pick up in the next second I am getting on the next flight to Maui and leaving your ass here to freeze!” 

Silence. Lupin sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. That had been harsh, a bit too harsh really. Making sure Goemon was out of earshot, he spoke again. 

“Look… If you’re pissed about that whole help-wanted ad thing, it was a joke, okay? I’m not gonna replace you while you’re off on your little vacation, got it? So just pick up and answer already.” 

In lieu of a response, static. And Lupin felt his stomach begin to sink. His partner was in no way a chatter box, and on more than one occasion, Lupin had compared him to an irritable oyster with a beard. More often than not, the thief found himself on the receiving end of a cold shoulder from his partner. 

But Jigen’s cold shoulder had always consisted of annoyed grumbles and sarcastic quips that had more bite to them than normal. Never complete silence. 

“Jigen?” He asked weakly. “Jigen if you’re there, answer.” He waited, hoping that any minute he’d hear a familiar, gravelly voice on the other end of the line. Calling him out on the help-wanted joke, chastising him for overlooking Zenigata, heck, he’d even take laughing at his vulnerability, anything as long as Jigen would just fucking answer… 

“Jigen, pick up.” 

Nothing. 

“Answer me.” 

Silence. 

“Jigen?” 

Static. 

Swallowing hard, Lupin made his way back to the car on shaky legs. Goemon perked up slightly at his approach. 

“Has Jigen explained himself?” He asked, slightly annoyed. And then his glower melted away into a look of concern at the look on Lupin’s face. No. No that would not do at all. Lupin swallowed again and forced a smile onto his features. 

“Nah. He probably chickened out and holed up in a random bar somewhere.” Goemon didn’t answer, still fixing Lupin with a pointed gaze until the forced smile gradually slid off Lupin’s face. Damn that samurai and damn whatever extra sense he had that let him see Lupin was completely bullshitting everything. 

“Lupin,” he asked. “When has Jigen ever “chickened out” of a job?” Never. That wasn’t Jigen’s style. Sure, when they’d first started working together Lupin had fully expected a bullet in the back or for the other man to just cut and run but after ten years or so he liked to think that he’d grown on his partner. Besides, Jigen had been upfront about his plans after this job from the get go. He knew that Lupin knew so what reason would Lupin have to think he’d cut and run? 

Because if Jigen hadn’t cut and run after all, that could only mean... 

Mind set, Lupin swung himself into the driver’s seat and started the Marussia. 

“You hang onto Zantetsuken?” He asked, earning a scoff from Goemon. 

“Of course.” 

“Let’s get going.” 

~~~~~~~~~~ 

The streets of Petropavlovsk-Kamchatskiy had calmed considerably since the afternoon chase between the sports car and about dozens of police officers. The clouds that hung over the city all day had finally let loose flurries of snow and a cool breeze whistled between the buildings. Barely a soul was in sight as the Marussia pulled to a stop in front of an abandoned store front. 

As they left the warmth of the car, a cold wind carrying flurries of snow buffeted them and Lupin got to thinking that accompanying Jigen to whatever warm climate he chose wouldn’t be a bad idea. 

They nearly missed it, too busy closing their coats against the cold. Lupin just barely caught it out of the corner of his eye. The dark shape was caught by the breeze, went sailing off the edge of the roof and over the passerby on the street. 

And Lupin felt his blood run far colder than the air around him. 

He knew that shape. 

Carefully, eyes focused, he reached up to snatch the battered fedora as it floated down to the street. 

He knew that hat. 

And unless there was someone else in Russia with excellent taste in hats... 

“Stay here.” He tossed the hat to Goemon, striding towards the building before the samurai could ask anything. “I’ll check out the roof.” 

If Goemon said anything in response, Lupin was through the door and climbing the stairs before it registered. Usually, situations like this could go two ways. Jigen had left, something that was looking less and less likely by the second, or he’d been caught and was sitting in a jail cell somewhere cursing Lupin’s name. Or he could find his partner’s bloody and beaten corpse laying there on the rooftop. Ok, that was three ways this could go down, but Lupin had never run into door number three his entire career. Jigen was just fine. 

Probably. 

Hopefully... 

The door stood before him. Wooden, flimsy, it wasn’t even locked and even if it was, he could easily break it down with a well placed kick. Lupin steeled himself, turned the knob, and silently hoped that he wasn’t about to open door number three. 

Of course, the wind acted up again, making him squint the second the door opened. He blinked several times, trying to clear his eyes so he could see what exactly happened up here. 

No blood. 

No corpse. 

Just an empty roof and an abandoned sniper rifle with some kind of envelope stuck in it. Lupin moved closer to investigate when a strange crunching sound stopped him in his tracks and drew his eyes downward. 

If his life was in danger, Jigen would absolutely leave his hat on a rooftop in Russia. Hell, he’d probably leave the very nice rifle behind if things were really getting hairy. 

But the Smith and Wesson... 

Scooping it up, Lupin grabbed the envelope and tried to open it. Damn Russian winter, his fingers wouldn’t stop shaking. Eventually, he got it open and slid the thick paper out. Parchment paper. This wasn’t the police. This was too fancy, too rich. Whoever was behind this had enough of an ego to write a ransom note like it was a royal decree. 

_ Sklad RMK. Ulitsa Pogranichnaya. We trade at 5:00. You know what to bring._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From the beginning, the image of a lone fedora being blown in the wind as an open for things to come was definitely an image that was going in here. I couldn’t resist... TBH, this was my first time writing Lupin and Goemon, so they might be a little bit rusty. Hope I managed to do them justice in the end. In other news, thanks go out to TheOneOctopus, iSaphura, and TheGunMan for their comments on the last chapter. You should check out their fics sometime too! Thanks to everyone who left kudos on the last chapter as well! Thanks again for reading!


	4. No. 4- L'allusions, Boîtes et Langues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blows and bullets are exchanged and the heroes technically emerge victoriously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember how I said in the last chapter that it would be the last time we saw one character in one piece? A quick warning to everyone, I liberally abused Google Translate in this chapter, mostly so someone could call another person a "pig" or a "swine" in Russian. Another warning before anyone gets too into this chapter, I've mentioned in the tags that this fic will get somewhat edgy later on and I believe I covered everything in the tags. The end of the chapter is where it starts. Just wanted to give everyone one final warning in case they wanted to jump ship. Thanks for reading this far and I hope you enjoy the chapter!

Goemon found himself pulled from meditation with the sound of a car door opening and Lupin sliding into the driver’s seat next to him. He glanced back at the passenger seat as Lupin began to rummage around in the glove compartment. Empty.

“Where is-” An open envelope fell into his lap and he abandoned his line of questioning to investigate.

“Got himself kidnapped again, that’s all.” The Marussia came to life and pulled away from the sidewalk into the city. Goemon nodded again as he looked over the letter. Kidnappings were nothing new in their line of work. Mostly, they involved Fujiko pretending to be in the clutches of their opponents, only to be in cahoots with them the entire time. That being said, the samurai could recall several times he and Jigen and even Lupinhad found themselves alone at the mercy of their enemies and in need of rescue. He turned his attention back to the letter.

“Ulitsa?”

“Means street in Russian.” Lupin clarified as he turned down a side street. “We’re meeting our friends at whatever that Sklad thin is. Probably to trade the eggs for Jigen.”

“I see.” Goemon nodded in understanding. “The eggs we just stole mere hours ago.”

“Yep.” Lupin replied flatly and Goemon looked over at the dashboard clock. 4:07.

“You aren’t going to trade them, are you.”

“Nope.” Sighing in irritation, Goemon pulled out Zantetsuken and began to unsheath the blade. It really was troublesome that car doors couldn’t open while the car was moving. “Put that away Goemon, did I say we were leaving Jigen at the mercy of those psychos?” He glanced over at Lupin and finally noticed the unfolded map propped up on the steering wheel. “When have I ever done that?” Zantetsuken slid closed with a snap and Goemon turned his gaze back to the road.

“Whenever there’s a woman involved.” He muttered and Lupin gave a good-natured chuckle from beside him.

“Fair enough, but there isn’t a woman involved this time so it doesn’t count. Besides, I have a plan.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As it turned out, Sklad RMK was a warehouse. A bunch of warehouses as a matter of fact. Lupin was a bit worried at first that Goemon wouldn’t be able to find the right one, but sure enough, there they were. A bunch of menacing-looking men in dark suits, waiting for them outside the entrance. Goemon brought the Marussia to a lurching halt across the street and they stepped out, Lupin with a friendly wave to the dark-suited men, Goemon with a slight limp in his step.

“You know I hate driving…” He muttered and Lupin responded with a whisper of his own.

“You did fine. Besides, I had to set up the case and you only had to drive halfway.” Abruptly, he straightened and yelled a jovial “Evening gentlemen!” to the men in the suits. They responded by grabbing his arms and yanking him forward. “Hey there, take it easy comrades!” Lupin felt a small tug as a small mouse-like guy confiscated his Walther, but kept his arms up. _Just go along for now._. Goemon held up his arms beside him, shaking out his sleeves to show he was unarmed. Apparently satisfied, the men led them down the drive over to a warehouse, hands still in the air, Goemon limping along. The warehouse they came to was relatively empty, save for a few other men and one, very large and vaguely familiar person talking to them in rapid Russian. Said large man turned as they entered and Lupin felt his brain screech to a halt.

“You kept us waiting, svin’ya.” The blonde mountain of a man sauntered over to them. “And here I thought you were going to run off and leave your partner.”

“No way…” Lupin muttered, still hardly daring to believe his eyes. “This can’t- I can’t believe it!” And suddenly, he turned to Goemon, the widest grin on his face and proclaimed “That’s the guy I was telling you about! The guy named “Tit!”” And he broke down into a fit of laughter, still somehow managing to keep his hands in the air. Meanwhile, Goemon looked the other man up and down.

“I can see why Jigen’s scared of him…” He muttered. Tit, for his credit, barely betrayed a hint of annoyance. A slight twitch of the lips and that was it.

“I assume you received our message.” He said and Lupin managed to compose himself enough to smile up at the giant.

“That was you guys? You shouldn’t have!” Another twitch of the lips and Tit continued.

“I also assume you brought what we requested?” Lupin nodded.

“Backseat of the Marussia.” Tit looked around to the mousy looking fellow who’d taken his Walther.

“Vasily,” He barked. “Idi voz’mi eto. I pozvoni v politsiya.” The guy, Vasily apparently, nodded curtly and headed outside. Lupin smiled, everything was going to plan so far, but he couldn’t help but notice something was missing.

“Hang on a second, what about Jigen?” He asked and Tit shrugged nonchalantly.

“Your partner will be returned to you after you give us what we want.” Lupin cocked his head slightly This was not how trades were supposed to work…

“Huh, that’s the fakest thing I’ve ever heard Tit. You wouldn’t happen to be made of silicone would you?” He erupted into giggles again and heard Goemon give an exasperated groan next to him.

“That was a bad one, even for you.” Lupin paid him no mind and instead turned his attention to Tit. The twitch in his lips was slightly more pronounced now and he could just make out a twitching vein in the other man’s neck.

“Oh c’mon, are you still mad about Moscow?” He asked and a hint of color rose in the other man’s cheeks. Goemon leaned towards him slightly and asked,

“Alright, just what did you and Jigen do in Moscow?”

“Hit up an art gallery, pissed off some gangsters, had some nice pirozhki, the usual.” Tit inhaled deeply, face returning to a somewhat normal color before he smirked and turned to address Lupin.

“My boss is a patient man, Arsene Lupin the Third.” He said. “He will be most pleased to hear I have you now.” Without missing a beat, Lupin returned the man’s smirk with a grin of his own.

“Well that’s just swell. Your boss must really trust you. Lemme guess, it’s because you’re the “breast” in the business, isn’t it?” The smirk left Tit’s face instantly and the vein began ticking in his neck again. “Hey, perk up Tit, it’s just a joke!” The man’s face simply grew redder and redder and Lupin could practically hear the steam boiling over. One more push ought to be enough. “C’mon, no one likes a saggy Tit!” And that was it.

“Proklyatyye svin’i!” Tit roared and surged forward. Lupin and Goemon dodged neatly around him as the click of firearms filled the air. Goemon pulled Zantetsuken from where it had been strapped to his leg and the clash of bullets against the sword fell by the wayside as Tit recovered and lunged at Lupin once more. What ensued was more dodging, subtly drawing him away from flashing gun barrels and slicing steel. Tit lunged forward yet again and Lupin grabbed the chance. He ducked under the other man's fist, racing forward until he could reach a hand under Tit's jacket and find-

Nothing?

Out of nowhere, a meaty hand wrapped around his shirt, fingers digging into the blue fabric and a second later, Lupin found his back on the floor, the breath knocked out of him and another fist buried in his gut.

“Okay, that actually hurt.” Tit paid no mind to his words, instead opting to wind up for another hit that Lupin quickly rolled away from while hugging his belly.

_What kind of fucking gangster walks around without a fucking gun?! _ He thought furiously as he stood up in time to see the mountain of a man barreling towards him again. _One that prefers beating people to death I guess... _ Another minute of dodging around, trading blows against chests, chins and even shoulders, Lupin finally managed to snake a hit past the other man's guard where it connected with Tit’s cheek. The gangster paused for a moment without so much as a flinch before resuming his assault on the thief.

_ Get it together Arsène!_ Lupin thought and gritted his teeth. _You’re smaller than this guy, faster, more compact, harder to hit- _ His train of thought was interrupted by another fist slamming into his jaw.

Okay, that was it. Slipping under a few more punches, Lupin landed several blows on the man’s ears and eyes before finally socking him right in the nose. He reeled back again, dazed and bleeding from the nose and Lupin slipped around to the gangster’s backside. Tit realized where he’d gone and tried to spin around but it was too late by then. Monkeylike, Lupin leaped up onto his back, arm going around the man’s throat and squeezing tightly in a vice-like grip. Tit roared again and flailed around, backing into the wall of the warehouse, (ow) grabbing Lupin’s arm and trying to tear it off, (ow) before falling to the floor and trying to dislodge the thief by rolling around (ow).

Eventually, the desperate flailing subsided and Lupin thought he saw a hint of blue rising in Tit’s face. That wouldn’t do, they needed him alive. He loosened his grip slightly and that was when the elbow came out of nowhere and socked him right in the jaw. Dislodged from Tit’s back, Lupin scrambled back on the floor as Tit coughed violently and moved his arms beneath him to get back up. It was also at that moment that the warehouse was strangely lacking in gunfire.

“Lupin!” Goemon’s shout pulled his attention across the room and he found a gun sailing towards him from Goemon’s outstretched hand. The rest of the men were lying on the floor, weapons sliced to ribbons and Lupin was incredibly thankful that Goemon had the foresight to save one for him.

As Lupin’s hand snatched the gun out of the air and pressed it to the back of Tit’s head, the door of the warehouse slid open. Vasily had apparently returned, leaning against the door frame, the case containing the eggs in one hand and a gun in the other. Lupin didn’t move, keeping the gun on Tit and his eyes on Vasily as Goemon readied Zantetsuken. A minute passed, then another. And then Vasily slumped to the ground out cold.

“What did you-” Tit ground out as Goemon strode over to them.

“I would think that you would have heard of a booby trap.” He remarked, placing the blade of Zantetsuken against the Russian’s throat. Lupin snickered again, wincing as his likely bruised ribs ached in response, and walked towards the unconscious Vasily.

“Nice one Goemon!” He called back as he picked up the Walther. Right back where she belonged. “Gotta say though, I didn’t think he’d make it all the way back here after being gassed.” Gingerly, Lupin picked up the case of eggs, taking a moment to remove the canisters formerly filled with knockout gas. Rolling his shoulders and wincing again, he strode back towards Tit and Goemon, cocking the Walther and holding it to the man’s head. Threatening other people just didn’t feel right if he wasn’t using his own gun. “Now, I think we both know it’s been a rough night, so why don’t you just tell me what you did with Jigen.” His response was Tit turning his head to the side to attempt to spit at him.

“Idi k chortu ty svin’ya!” He hissed and Goemon pressed Zantetsuken against his cheek, careful not to draw any blood. Not just yet. Tit seemed to realize that his options were limited with a sword at his throat and a gun pointed at his head. He relaxed slightly and replied in English. “In the back. He’s in the back room. You get there from the office.” Lupin stared at him for a moment, looking for any twitch, any sign the other man was lying. A moment later with nothing to suggest so, he smiled and pulled the Walther away.

“Wasn’t so hard, was it?” He asked and sauntered off to the office. Goemon didn’t move and was still glaring down at Tit.

Lupin wasn’t too surprised to see that the office was empty and door to storage was locked. No biggie, he was always prepared.

“Honey, I’m home!” He called out with a knock on the door. No answer. Great. He was either knocked out cold or gagged. Rolling his eyes slightly, he set about picking the lock, wincing as he noticed the bruises on his knuckles. What the hell was that Tit guy made out of anyway, rocks? He really hoped Jigen appreciated what he went through for the other man’s sake.

“You’re losing your edge Jigen, how could you let that guy sneak up on you?” No answer yet again and Lupin gave a small huff. Whatever, they were in the clear now. He’d go in, get Jigen, and then maybe reconsider his stance about staying in Russia. The lock clicked open and Lupin strode into the room. “Alright, we gotta split anyway so-” He paused, taking stock of the room in front of him.

The decidedly empty room in front of him. “Jigen?” He looked around. Did Tit manage to lie? Or maybe he’d stuffed Jigen behind the walls or something… No, that would be too crazy, even for that guy.

And then he saw the box.

It was small, no bigger than a child’s shoebox, bright red and nestled in the middle of the room. He knelt down to examine it and found a tag attached to the top. _To Arsene Lupin the Third_ The handwriting matched the note he’d found on the rooftop. _ What the hell? _ He wondered as he picked it up and headed out of the office. Okay, so things were getting a bit weird, but this wasn’t the worst scrape he’d gotten into. Besides, Tit was still living and breathing and probably in need of a firmer talking to.

The two men were right where he’d left them, Tit face down on the ground, Goemon still holding Zantetsuken to his neck and glaring down at him with a look of utter contempt.

“Where's Jigen?” He asked, not even looking up. Lupin didn’t bother to answer and instead squatted down next to Tit’s head.

“Hey, Tit, what gives?” He asked. The gangster said nothing, simply fixing him with an icy glare. “C’mon man, we had a deal. You tell the truth and Goemon here doesn’t slice you into ribbons.”

“I made no such deal.”

“I figured it was implied, right Goemon?” Goemon, bless him, nodded in agreement. Tit remained silent, jaw clenched and just glared straight ahead. Lupin sighed tiredly, standing up and began to turn the box over in his hands. “Alright, I guess we can milk you for all you’re worth.” He gave another small chuckle as he lifted the top of the box. “So, why don’t you tell me-” He cut off as the contents of the box caught his eyes.

And his stomach immediately plummeted.

Goemon must have noticed the abrupt shift in mood. He leaned over, careful to keep the sword at Tit’s throat to look into the box.

“Lupin, what-” He didn’t get to finish the question either as he saw exactly _what_. Under the harsh flourescent lights, the tongue sat nestled, blood-red against the clean white tissue paper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to level with everyone here, I do not like writing fight scenes. I don't know what it is about writing action but every time I read and re-read it there's just always something off about the pacing or wording or something else. That being said, there will probably be about two more fights in the story, so I hope you enjoy them. An interesting bit of trivia, Sklad RMK and Ulitsa Pogranichnaya are real places in Russia, and I am in no way implying that any of these places or companies are affiliated with the Russian Mafia. I promise. Special thanks go to ATrueDonaldist, iSaphura, Elizabeth Tudor (Liz_Tudor), and VampireNaomi (thank you for taking the time to leave feedback on earlier chapters as well!) for their comments on Chapter 3! Thanks to everyone who left Kudos as well! Thanks again for reading and I'll see you in the next chapter!


	5. No. 5-La Chasse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zenigata catches the scent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, is anyone still reading after the end of the last chapter? In the last chapter’s author’s notes, I think I mentioned that I’m not a fan of writing action scenes. The same goes for car chases... In any case, I hope you all enjoy the new chapter!

For what felt like the longest time, the warehouse was filled with nothing but the faint hum of and occasional sputter of the warehouse’s faulty wiring. A second. Two maybe. After what may have been the third second of the tongue refusing to vanish, Lupin slowly turned. Tit say up straight at some point and was now giving the two thieves a downright unnerving stare.

“What the fuck?” Lupin asked, voice strangely calm. Tit just smiled. “What the fuck are you playing at?”

“I told you svin’ya.” The man replied. “He was in the back room. Part of him at least.” Lupin’s finger twitched towards the trigger on the Walther and he could practically feel Goemon tense and grip Zantetsuken all the tighter beside him. But before either of them could fill the bastard full of lead or slice him to ribbons, Tit spoke again. “The rest of him is at Khovo-Servis. Ulitsa Dalnya’nya, 40. You have two hours.” He paused and cocked his head to one side as though listening for something. “Or less perhaps.”

And then the faint glow of red and blue lights flashing some ways away from the warehouse came to their attention and Lupin was left wondering how the hell he’d mistaken the low wail of sirens in the distance for ringing in his ears.

Across from him and Goemon, Tit was practically grinning, as though he’d planned the whole thing from start to finish. “You should hurry.”

And as much as Lupin wanted to tell the asshole exactly where he could stick his damn advice, the increasing volume of the sirens forced him to agree as he shoved the case of eggs into Goemon’s arms and bolted for the door.

For whatever reason, be it a lack of sufficient police force, lack of morale in said police force or good old Zenigata’s lack of tutelage in the Russian language, the arriving force of officers was scant as they searched through the area. After dragging Tit out from the warehouse, they’d spread themselves thin throughout the lot with a brash command from Zenigata.

“Comb this place from top to bottom men!” He’d hollered. “We don’t leave until Lupin the Third is handcuffed and on the way to the gulag!” Lupin had hoped that the scarcity of police would allow him and Goemon to sneak quietly to the car without incident. But no. Pops had to actually be clever for once and posted several officers outside the Marussia. Well that was just perfect.

“How did he even find out we were here?” Goemon muttered from their hiding place. Lupin didn’t bother answering, casting a stray thought to the mouse-like Vasily and what he’d been up to while grabbing the eggs before returning to the important stuff; get to the Marussia, get Jigen, and maybe get the hell out of Russia.

“Here’s the plan.” He muttered. “We knock those officers out on three, toss the eggs in the back, then drive like hell to Khovo-Servis Ulitsa Whatever and grab Jigen.” That could work. Simple, straight to the point, a little boring really but it got the job done. “Ready?” Goemon nodded, then fixed the space under Lupin’s arm with a look of utter disgust.

“You actually brought it with you?” Lupin glanced down, wondering what the heck Goemon was talking about.

Oh.

The red box.

“Well duh.” Goemon’s face didn’t change a bit with the answer. If anything, it only served to rile him up further.

“Why?!”

“I mean, maybe there’s a surgeon around these parts that can put it back in?”

“It’s a _tongue_ Lupin.”

“And?”

“I don’t think that’s how it works!”

“That’s totally how it works! Now shut up and help me out with those guards.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fools. Incompetents. Idiots. He was surrounded by them. He’d told them that the getaway car would need more officers guarding it, told them that Lupin the Third was full of tricks and traps and that if they let their guard down with him in the area there would be Hell to pay. He’d warned them dammit.

And what did he get for his trouble?

Four downed officers and the screech of the Marussia speeding away.

Idiots.

We’re Zenigata any other officer, he would have given the politsiya a royal piece of his mind for ignoring his advice. The thought was very tempting, but there were more important matters at hand.

Namely, the matter of Lupin the Third and the fact that he was escaping.

“Stay on that Marussia!!” He screamed jumping into the nearest squad car. “And get those downed officers some medical attention!”

The Marussia was fairly easy to pick out on the road. Maybe not as easy as Lupin’s normal Canary colored Fiat, but one did not see a high class sports car tearing through a Russian neighborhood like a bat out of Hell everyday. Or maybe they did in Russia. Who knew. The point was, Lupin was in that car, likely headed to the nearest airport or seaport to make a clean getaway with whatever he’d stolen.

The Marussia swerved around a bend, incredibly spinning around backwards to drive in reverse down the road.

That could only mean-

“Swerve!” The officer driving the car, Ivanovich or something like that, did as he was told just as short bursts of gunfire rang from the drivers side of the car. Bullets ricocheted off the pavement, missing the squad cars almost entirely.

Huh.

Jigen didn’t usually miss.

Whatever. That made things easier for Zenigata and with the sirens wailing, the squad of cars sped on more or less unscathed. The Marussia gave a screech as Lupin or Jigen or whoever was driving this time spun the car forward and straight ahead. And all the while the squad crawled closer. Up ahead, an overpass loomed, closed for construction no doubt.

“We’ve got him now!” Zenigata grinned triumphantly before he noticed the figure emerge from a window to clamber up onto the roof of the car.

Goemon?

What was he going to-

And with a lurch of realization, Zenigata pulled back into the squad car and reached his leg around to slam on the gas. The little car shot forward just as Goemon pulled out his sword and slashed upwards. Barely a second later, the overpass crumbled. Rubble and chunks of pavement onto the street below as the Marussia and the squad car pulled out in the nick of time.

On the other side of the brand new road block, Zenigata faintly heard the screech of brakes and wailing of sirens. No metal crunches of cars crashing into each other. Good. They must have stopped in time.

“Just you and me now comrade.” Zenigata gave an encouraging clap to Ivanovich’s shoulder before turning his eyes back to the road. Just in time too. He’d almost missed the Marussia turning off the road and into a park.

Still, Lupin was crafty as ever and the chase wasn’t easy. The squad car was left dodging around playground equipment and the occasional tree sent their way by Goemon. Still, Ivanovich was shaping up to be one hell of a driver and soon Zenigata found himself neck and neck with the Marussia.

“End of the line Lupin!” He roared with glee, practically leaning over Ivanovich and ignoring the officers protests. He was so close and Lupin was not getting away this time. “YOU’RE UNDER ARREST!”

“That’s what you always say!” The thief fired back and Goemon slashed again.

Ivankov, bless him, chose that moment to hit the brakes and swerve around the back of the Marussia. As a result, Zenigata found himself thrown backwards and almost out the window as Ivanovich maneuvered neck and neck with the other car.

It was there, hanging out the passenger side window of the police car, that Zenigata’s well trained eye detected two things that he found very strange.

The first was that Daisuke Jigen was nowhere to be found. Usually, he and Lupin were thick as thieves, both literally and figuratively.

The second was that Lupin was driving with a small red box on his lap. Zenigata had it on good authority that Lupin had fled the museum with the Romanov Eggs in a silver attaché case. Whatever he’d been doing in that warehouse, he must have stolen that red box in the process, the scoundrel!

“Lupin!” he growled and pulled himself upright. “You’re under arrest! You will return the Romanov Eggs, and whatever is in that red box, to their rightful owners!” Lupin soared a quick, almost annoyed glance at Zenigata.

And honestly, that threw the inspector just a little bit.

“That’s what I’m trying to do Pops!” The thief replied before wrenching the wheel to the left and pulling off a spectacular U-turn. And a brief look forward showed Zenigata why Lupin had cut through the park.

“Hard left! HARD LEFT!” He leapt for the steering wheel, but the weight and momentum of the car carried it past the trees and skidding onto the frozen lake.

They spun for a few brief moments, Zenigata yelling at Ivanovich to turn into the skid and Ivanovich screaming out some kind of prayer in Russian. Eventually they slid to a halt, sirens still wailing and Ivan still praying and Zenigata began to ruminate on the chase. They were stuck on the ice until they could push the car back to the shore. By then, Lupin would be long gone, dammit.

And that was another thing in and of itself.

Zenigata has been chasing Lupin for years and every time, almost every time he’d come close to capturing him at last, Lupin would slip through his clutches yet again with an unabashed grin and a smart quip.

But not this time.

Something had gotten to Lupin this time.

And Zenigata pondered the pieces for a brief minute, (Lupin’s strange attitude, the sudden detour to the warehouse, the red box, the lack of his right hand man) tried to find a way to put them together before realizing that he was letting Lupin get away.

“You alright?” He asked, glancing over at Ivanovich. The officer had the steering wheel of the car in a white knuckled death grip, but otherwise looked unharmed.

“Da.” Zenigata nodded. He could worry about figuring out this puzzle later. He had a thief to catch and some eggs to return.

“Thats good. Get out and help me push. He’s getting away.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Your driving was worse than usual.” Goemon complained as he slid off the roof of the Marussia. From the driver’s seat, Lupin rolled his eyes as he rooted around in the glove compartment. He knew those binoculars were in there somewhere.

“Get off my back. Do you have any idea how hard it is to drive in reverse and aim at the same time?” He found said binoculars and had just straightened up when Lupin realized that Goemon was nowhere near the car. “Hey,” the samurai had marched off towards the address, not even bothering to be subtle.

Crap that would ruin everything.

“Hey get down will you!?” Goemon gave no indication he’d heard the other man at all and soon Lupin found himself dragging a rather ticked off samurai into the bushes by the side of the road.

“It’s 6:15. Why aren’t we going in?” Lupin took a moment to began with a palm slapping his face.

“For crying out loud, wasn’t your ancestor a thief? We have 45 minutes before time is up. If we can find out where they’re keeping Jigen, get in and out without any fuss we get to keep him AND the eggs.” Goemon flushed red in response and muttered a small apology and Lupin thrust a pair of binoculars at him. They weren’t the most advanced piece of equipment he had, but sometimes simple was better. They didn’t take up much space, were relatively inexpensive, and they got the job done; this particular job being spying on Russian gangsters. And sure enough, there they were, standing around the warehouse and right in the middle of them was-

“No way.”

“What’s wrong?” Goemon shot up, grabbing Zantetsuken and Lupin wondered if Jigen would forgive him if he strangled Goemon because he’d screwed up the gunman’s rescue.

Probably not.

“Get down dammit!” He yanked Goemon down again and pushed the binoculars into his hands. “That guy over there? The one with his hand all wrapped up? He was in Moscow with Tit.” Goemon blinked, probably. Lupin couldn’t tell through the binoculars, but Goemon usually blinked and paused for a second when he was confused. Most people did.

“Again I ask, what did you do in Moscow?”

“I told you, we lifted this collection of paintings from the Tretyakov Gallery.” Lupin replied and looked back through the binoculars. “Or tried to anyway, Fujiko ran off with the paintings and Jigen and I got on this weirdo’s bad side.”

“And who is this “weirdo” that chased you all the way across Russia?”

“Bratva. Russian Mafia. We’ve dealt with organized crooks before. Hell we ARE organized crooks if you think about it. Just relax.” Still, something wasn’t meshing. Both Tit and this guy had been in Moscow with their boss. What had his name been? Any other time, Lupin would have dismissed it as unimportant, but...

He lowered the binoculars to glance around Khovo-Servis for any quick entrances or exits. Another warehouse.

Tit, this new asshole, and their boss had been in Moscow. How had they managed to track him down from one end of Russia to the other? No use worrying about that now. These creeps had Jigen and wanted to trade him for something. The eggs? That they’d only just stolen that afternoon? That would make the most sense, but...

But they’d known where Jigen was, almost like they were planning to take him before they knew about the eggs.

But the message hadn’t actually specified _what_ Lupin needed to trade for Jigen, only that he knew.

And the creeping, unfamiliar feeling of dread that had worked its way into Lupin’s mind was not alleviated one bit by What came out of Goemon’s mouth next.

“Lupin, I don’t want to alarm you, but your friend from Moscow is looking right at us.” A quick peek through the binoculars showed him that the man with the bandaged hand was indeed staring right at them.

God. Dammit. Goemon.

“Nice going.” Lupin muttered ruefully. The man said something to one of his subordinates before turning on his heel and walking towards a side room. A ha...

“Do you have any idea where Jigen is?” Goemon chimed in and Lupin shook his head.

“I can’t say for sure, but I’d bet money that he’s back in that storeroom.”

“How can you be sure?”

“They know we’re here, thanks to you.” Goemon flushed indignantly once more. “The next step for any mafioso would be to bring the hostage out as leverage. Let us know that they’ve got the upper hand.” Then again, most Mafiosos, to his knowledge, did not cut the tongues out of their hostages. They usually wanted them to talk before killing them. What had Jigen told him just yesterday? God had it really only been yesterday?

“_They get creative..._

No, Lupin had the sinking feeling that they were not dealing with normal gangsters this time around. “Any normal mafioso that is...” And sure enough, when bandaged hand left the store room moments later, it was not with his partner in tow.

“Oh...” Lupin felt Goemon tense with barely concealed rage beside him.

“That’s a red box.” He ground out. Lupin wanted to reply. Honestly, genuinely he wanted to snark back to Goemon about his penchant for stating the obvious at the most inopportune times. He really really wanted to...

But his mouth had gone completely and utterly dry and he felt as though if he opened his mouth even an inch, he would vomit all over the ground because the man had come out of that store room with a goddamn red box.

Said man fixed Lupin and Goemon’s hiding place with an icy look, not even looking down as he slowly undid the ribbon around the box, opened the lid, Lupin’s stomach churned; he couldn’t see the contents from his spot. Slowly, the man raised the open box above his head (_is it his ears? His nose? God help them if they took his eyes_) and ever so slightly tipped his hands forward.

A cascade of small, peach flesh colored shapes fell from the box, bounced merrily on the floor of the warehouse and Lupin felt the world draw to a screeching halt.

Fingers.

Ten severed fingers.

Ten severed fingers that anyone who considered their gun to be an indispensable part of themselves could most certainly not do without.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like the previous chapter, Khovo-Servis is a real thing and I am in no way implying that they’re affiliated with the Mob or any criminal organization. Also, the park that Lupin and Zenigata drive through is supposed to be Elektron Park in Petropavlovsk-Kamchatsky. Also, if you can figure out what Tit said to Vasily in the last chapter, you can figure out how Zenigata and the police by extension found Lupin and Goemon so easily. Special thanks go to ATrueDonaldist, mangalho, and Elizabeth Tudor (Liz_Tudor) for their comments on the last chapter. Thanks to everyone who left kudos as well! As always, I’ll see you in the next chapter, and thanks for reading!


	6. No. 6- Les Pions Prennet Position

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karmic justice is dealt and a new player enters the scene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually finished this chapter a few days ago, but for some reason, I wanted to wait to update it because I thought it would be really cool to do a "fic-bomb" where I update most of my stories in one fell swoop because I actually have time to work on them a bit. Also, this is my first time officially going into depth with Goemon, so I hope I did him justice. Also, something you should probably know, when it comes to Lupin III yearly specials, there's a bit of a fan theory about the color of his shirt. If it's blue, you're in for a light-hearted adventure special along the lines of Seven Days Rhapsody or Another Page. If his shirt is black, as in Island of Assassins or Eternal Mermaid... Someone's gonna die... Eh, I'm sure it's not that important. Also, this is where some edgy stuff gets a bit more... edgy... I'll try to change the tags as needed if any issues arise. I hope you enjoy the chapter!

It took Goemon a minute or two to realize that he'd left the safety of the hiding spot. One moment, he'd been next to Lupin, watching the man with the bandage on his hand upend the red box to scatter Jigen's fingers on the warehouse floor and the next Zantetsuken had separated several hands and a few heads from several bodies of the men in the warehouse. He supposed it was karma. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, a head for a tongue and several hands for ten fingers. Karma. Or consequences for _cutting off Jigen's fingers and dumping them on the floor…_

A short burst of gunfire rang out and he whirled around just in time to slice the bullets out of the air. The man with the bandaged hand had drawn a gun from his coat and had taken aim at Goemon. The men around him, the ones Goemon hadn't gotten to yet, drew their own guns and followed suit, obviously thinking there was no way he'd be able to dodge all of them.

They would be correct.

So he didn't.

Time always seemed to dilate and stretch in situations like these. Goemon couldn’t really complain. After all, if it allowed him to clearly see the path each bullet was taking, then he saw no problem. Sending Zantetsuken whirling through the air to cut and slice and block was a simple matter. The men stood, shocked and horrified for a moment, before scrambling to reload their weapons. Too late. An opening had appeared and Goemon would take it. The guns were shredded first before he moved onto the rest. More hands. More heads. More consequences. Karma.

"Watch it Goemon!" It wasn't Lupin's warning that caused him to hesitate as much as the click of a gun about to fire. A glance over his shoulder showed Goemon that the man with the bandage had concealed an extra gun somewhere on his person. He smirked, moved to pull the trigger. And then a shot rang out from elsewhere in the warehouse, knocking the gun off course and causing the man with the bandage to whirl around and return fire right at-

"Lupin!" The thief had apparently joined the fray in time for a bullet to be sent directly at his torso. He was knocked off balance while the sound of ripping fabric filled Goemon's ears. He paid it no mind. Lupin had bought him an opportunity and he would not let it go to waste. The man turned around to aim at Goemon. He was fast, and were Jigen here he could probably give the gunman a run for his money. Still, the man was a second too late. Zantetsuken flashed upwards, slicing the barrel of the gun clean in half. Then downwards, completely shredding what was left of it. Then upwards once more and the man gave a cry of pain as his hand fell to the floor. Knocked off balance, he tipped over and Goemon leaped, pinning him to the ground with Zantetsuken at his throat.

He ought to kill him. He should kill him. He _wanted_ to kill him... After all, there was Karma to uphold. But the man likely knew where Jigen was and it was that fact alone that stayed Zantetsuken's blade. In the Russian’s eyes, Goemon could see the man engage in an internal debate he’d become familiar with over the years. Did he dare take the risk and try to shoot? What would happen first? Would Zantetsuken descend or would the bullet pierce Goemon? A moment later, another gunshot rang out and knocked the gun from the other man's hand. Glancing up, Goemon took note of Lupin standing on slightly quivering legs, blue shirt torn clean through the right side, but otherwise unharmed.  
  
"Good." He murmured, returning his gaze to the man beneath him. "I thought you were dead for a moment."

"Oh ye of little faith." Lupin shot back as he advanced on the two, Walther drawn and aiming at the Russian man's head. "And you!" He exclaimed while gesturing to the large tear in his shirt. "You ruined a perfectly good shirt. Why don't you make it up to me and tell me where I can find Jigen?" The Russian man remained quiet for a moment, gaze flitting between the blade at his throat and the pistol in his face.

"Torgmortans." He grunted out and Lupin nodded.

"And I assume you cut off his ears next and they're waiting for me there, eh?" The Russian sneered at that and replied with an unnerving grin.

"Not the ears. Teeth." He paid no mind to the thin line of blood drawn when Goemon pressed Zantentsuken ever so slightly deeper into his skin, nor did he flinch when Lupin's finger began to shake on the trigger of the Walther.

"Then I guess we won't get anywhere if we play by the rules…" Lupin mused. "So, let's go directly to the Big Man himself. Where can I find your boss?" That got a reaction alright. Not the one that Goemon hoped for… The man's jaw clamped shut, eyes stared at the ceiling and he performed a rather familiar impression of an oyster clamming up. Undeterred, Lupin cast a glance around the warehouse before putting the Walther away and grabbing the red box on the floor. "Goemon," He called out as he scoured the floor for something. "Cut off his other hand."

"Very well." Zantetsuken had just left the man's throat and was advancing towards his wrist when the Russian man deemed his remaining limb more important than his standing with his boss.

"Kmp-Kholod!" He cried out. "Ulitsa Krasintsev."

"I see." Lupin replied as he made his way back to the two men on the floor. "And what is it that your boss wants from me? The eggs?" At that, the Russian man gave a short bark of laughter as he stared at Lupin with a discomforting grin.

"He doesn't care about those glorified paperweights. You already know what he wants." "Besides, you want to meet him, why not ask yourself?" Without so much as a twitch, Lupin nodded and turned around to leave.

"I think I will. Let's go." Goemon nodded, sheathing Zantetsuken and following Lupin out of the warehouse. They'd barely made it to the doors when a familiar click reached both their ears.

The fool.

Whirling around, Zantetsuken flashed in the fluorescent lights once more. Upwards first, ten downwards. Upwards to sever the man's remaining wrist, downwards to dig deep into the flesh protecting his heart and lungs and release a spray of blood from what remained of his torso. Karma. Sheathing Zantetsuken, Goemon turned back around to leave once and for all. Lupin hadn't even drawn his Walther during the entire finale, hadn't even turned around.

"You done?" He asked and Goemon nodded in response.

"Yes. Let’s hurry." Unceremoniously, Goemon found the keys to the car shoved into his hands while Lupin sped on ahead, almost as though he was trying to keep Goemon from seeing his face for as long as he could.

"You drive, I need to change."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By the time the two men got on the road, the sun had begun to sink below the horizon and time was running short. Goemon said nothing from the driver's seat, apparently content to let Lupin shimmy out of his ruined shirt and into a new one. By no means was Lupin a Boy Scout, but he had to admit they had the right idea when it came to mottos. Be prepared. The Marussia had everything he needed to continue pulling jobs in Russia. Wires, radios, binoculars, hell, even his spare shirts. He was ready. He was prepared. He'd been prepared for everything save for these crazy ass Russians kidnapping his fucking partner and apparently dismembering him piece by piece.

"Fuck." He muttered and ceased pulling his tie through the black material of his shirt. Unbidden, the thought that what he was doing was completely and utterly futile came into his mind. Jigen's fingers and tongue were in the trunk, his teeth were allegedly in Torgmortans and who knew where the rest of him had wound up. Was there any point in trying to save him anymore? And as sudden as the thought had come into his mind, he banished it harshly, almost ashamed of himself.

"What is our next move?" Goemon asked and Lupin found that he couldn't even answer. Did he have a plan? Could he come up with a plan? Fuck was there even a plan that could get them out of this? "Lupin?"

"Fucked." He replied bitterly and Goemon blinked in surprise. "I'm fucked. We're fucked. Jigen's fucked."

"What are you going on about?"

"I told you about Moscow, right? About how Jigen and I pissed off the Bratva when we stole some paintings with Fujiko and how these are the same guys?"

"Yes?"

"They're not after the eggs, they want the paintings back." Nodding again, Goemon turned his attention back to the road in front of him.

"Then you can return them and rescue Jigen, right?" Now that was an idea. Play the deal straight and trade the paintings for Jigen. That could actually work were it not for the fact that Goemon had missed an extremely crucial part of the story.

"I haven't got them Goemon." Came the hollow reply and the car swerved momentarily as Goemon wrenched the wheel in surprise.

"What?"

"I don't have the paintings." Lupin explained as he ran a hand through his hair. "Fujiko ran off with them in Moscow and I haven't seen her since." Lupin bowed forward to rest his head on the dashboard as the weight of his announcement hung in the air between them.

"Then we contact Fujiko and-"

"And she could be anywhere in the world, sold them to anyone she wanted to and Jigen doesn't have time to wait for us to track them down!" Goemon shut up, eyes locked forward. With a small pang of guilt worming its way through his gut, Lupin dragged his hands over his face once again before turning to stare out the window. "I'm sorry, but we're fucked…" And indeed they were. Options were running low, moral was running lower and it was starting to look more and more like Jigen was going to-

No, he was not going to go down that road right now. Right now, he needed a plan. True, he and Goemon were trapped in a city with gangsters on their heels who wanted something Lupin didn't have and if he didn't get it to them in time the Jigen would be-

Dammit brain, stop conjuring up the worst possible scenarios! He couldn't throw in the towel just yet, Jigen was waiting for him somewhere, down ten fingers and a tongue and his teeth apparently. If he could find out where Jigen was from the boss man, then maybe he could get there asap and do his thing. After all, he was prepared. He still had some supplied in the trunk left over from Moscow, maybe-

At that moment, the full weight of his stupidity crashed over Lupin and he shot straight up in his seat.

"Hey, pull over." Either Goemon was ignoring Lupin to focus on the road or he hadn't heard him over the hum of the engine. So Lupin tried again. "Goemon pull over!" It worked that time and the Marussia screeched to a halt on the side of the road. Goemon's line of questions fell on deaf ears as Lupin bounded out of the car and swung around towards the trunk to rifle through it. Spare shirts, Romanov eggs, red boxes that would hopefully remain unopened for the remainder of the evening. Where the hell was it? "Can't believe I forgot about these!" Goemon joined him a few seconds later, confusion still palpable on his features.

"Lupin what are you-" Lupin cut him off with a cry of triumph as his fingers closed around exactly what he needed. Grinning, he turned around to face Goemon, an oblong tube that just might solve the whole entire ordeal clutched in his hands.

"I changed my mind. We might not be as fucked as I thought."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was another frigid night, full of cold and snow and Nanochka Karaboss sank back into the chair with a strained smirk. According to his sources, Tikhanovich was dead and Arsène Lupin the Third was on his way to pay him a visit. The arrival of the Samurai in Petropavlovsk-Kamchatsky had been an unexpected, and most unwelcome occurrence, but he'd thought it was one that could be worked around. Everything had gone the way Nanochka had needed it to at first and the Samurai hadn't been much of a factor. But the Inspector had shown up from Interpol on the man's tail and was poking around the city in a mad scramble for Lupin the Third. That had not been something Nanochka had planned for at all… No matter. As long as the Inspector remained focused on the thief, he wouldn't even notice Nanochka or his men working right under his nose.

Still…

He picked up the telephone and dialed, tapping his foot impatiently as the dial sounded in his ear. Once. Twice. What the hell was Grigori doing? And then, after the third ring, he picked up.

"What do you need Boss?"

"We might need to alter our plans a little. Apparently, Lupin the Third is coming to pay me a visit."

"What happened to Tikhanovich?"

"Apparently dead." Nanochka paused a moment to spare a passing thought to his fallen gunman. Tikhanovich had truly been the best in Russia. Hell, probably the best in the world were it not for the man in the hat. It was almost a shame that he'd needed to deal with the man so harshly. No matter. Lupin the Third and the Samurai were coming to him and it was likely that Tikhanovich would be thoroughly avenged by the end of the night. "Dovol'no. How is Lupin's partner?"

"He's stubborn, but he's stopped screaming." Grigori replied and Nanochka could practically hear the smirk in his voice. "What should we do now?"

"Move on." Nanochka ordered.

"And Lupin's partner?"

"Leave the gunman where he is. He won't be leaving Pryalka anytime soon."

"Of course sir." Update over, Nanochka hung up and pinched the bridge of his nose. Logically, leaving a prisoner alone would be begging for an escape attempt, but it was too risky otherwise. First, the Samurai had shown up, and now the Inspector from Interpol. That was two players he hadn't anticipated entering the scene and he couldn't afford to have suspicions raised because a group of well known Bratva members was hanging around Pryalka after closing hours. Besides, a man in that position was hardly capable of making any kind of escape. Nanochka could still win this.

"Stressed out?" A lilting voice sounded from just outside his vision and Nanochka felt the tension in his head melt away. If nothing else, that part of the plan had gone all too smoothly.

"Hardly my dear." He replied, turning around and getting out of the chair. "Just waiting for a pest problem to take care of itself. Give it a little time and I'll be able to devote my full attention to you later…" The woman was beautiful, maddeningly so. Devious and deadly as well and Nanochka wouldn't be surprised if she was plotting to stab him in the back down the road. But until then, he would enjoy himself. He stepped forward and wrapped his hands around her waist. It was brief, but not even a woman as beautiful as she could mask the momentary disgust that flashed across her face at the contact before replacing it with a sultry smile.

"Promise?" She asked with a slight pout. She really thought Nanochka couldn't see right through her, that she was capable of wrapping him around her finger like she'd done with lesser men. His grip tightened around her waist, briefly wondering if he could snap her spine with a simple twist. He could, but he also needed her for later.

"Of course." He returned her saccharine smile with one of his own before releasing her and returning to the desk. Yes, things were falling into place very nicely and Nanochka was actually looking forward to entertaining his guest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus points go to whoever can guess who is in the last scene with Nanochka. It's a little bit obvious, but I like hearing what the readers think and what theories they can come up with. Torgmortans and Kmp-Kholod are real organizations, and once again I'm not implying that they're affiliated with the Russian Mafia in any way. Special thanks go to iSaphura for her comment on the last chapter. Extra thanks to everyone, guests and members alike, who left Kudos as well. And I'll close this out with a quick shoutout to anyone who's reading: Please, stay safe, stay healthy, and don't forget to take care of yourself. Thanks for reading and I'll see you in the next chapter!


	7. No. 7-Le Dîner Savoureux

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A most delightful dinner is had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, remember that thing in the tags about horrific implications and food and what not? Yeah... As another warning, Google Translate was very liberally abused in this chapter as well due to my apparent inability to actually speak Russian... Just like Paper Moon, this fic is also nearing completion as well. It'll be wrapped up and done in about 2-3 more chapters, so thanks for sticking around until the end. I hope you enjoy the chapter!

The snow had continued to fall throughout the night and now lay in thick layers upon the empty streets. As such, it was easy to see the tracks of the car’s tires as it cut through the night and eventually glided to a stop in front of Kmp-Kholod. The engine cut out and Lupin glanced towards the dark-suited man surrounding the building, then over his shoulder to where Goemon was pressed against the floor in the back of the Marussia.

“Are you sure this is wise?” He mumbled and Lupin’s gaze returned to the road ahead. The men were advancing on the car.

“No, but we’re kinda running low on options here…” The thief grumbled and reached out to loop his arm through the strap on the tube next to him. “You remember how long to wait?”

“Thirty Minutes.”

“Very good. If I’m out before then, things went well and we go get Jigen. If not…” He trailed off, as the men got closer and Goemon rolled into the hollowed out compartment of the backseat. And Jigen had said that would never come in handy. He’d rub it in his face later, once this whole affair was finished. Once they got him back… _If_ they-

No. He’d said so himself, they were no longer fucked. They were going to get him back, find the best damn surgeon in all of Russia who could reattach limbs and tongues and Lupin would rub the whole compartment thing in his face. Yeah, that’s what he’d do.

Forcing his features into a smile, Lupin called out to the men as he opened the door of the car and stepped out into the night. “Evening gentlemen! I believe I have an appointment with your boss!” The men stiffened and reached into their coats, presumably for a weapon. Struggling to remain casual, Lupin raised his hands into the air, container looped across his back. He didn’t have a weapon, he wasn’t a threat (for now…) he was just there for an appointment with the Boss man, true to his word.  
  
The guards relaxed, beckoning him forward as two of them stood beside the car. Lupin resisted the urge to grin as he noticed that they failed to look inside. Seriously. These were what passed for guards these days? Really now… His coat and pants were patted down and checked for weapons at the door (no need, he’d left the Walther in the Marussia. Goemon could bring it in if things went south after 30 minutes after all) and before he knew it, he was entering the spacious warehouse, face to face with the boss himself, face to face with whatever the other man had planned for him…

Of all the things he’d expected to find in there (an entire mafia’s worth of men with guns pointed at him, nothing at all, Jigen’s corpse, missing a tongue and fingers and torn apart on the floor) a table decked out in all the finery you’d find in a five star restaurant (covered silver platters and everything) was not one of them. Not only that, but there was a man at the head of the table.

A man he recognized.

A man he hadn’t really thought that much about after leaving Moscow…

“Znachit, ty prishe, naglyy shchenok. What can I help you with, Arsene Lupin III?” The large man at the head of the table spoke casually, easily, with a relaxed smile as though Lupin had invited himself to a simple Sunday dinner. Hell, maybe Lupin _had_ invited himself to a simple Sunday dinner and he’d just missed the memo… No, now was not the time to be worrying about things like that. He had a deal that needed to go through and dammit it was going through come hell or high water. He returned the other man’s cordial smile with a slight frown and stepped towards the empty chair at the other end of the table. Time to get down to business.  
  
“I’m on a tight schedule so let’s cut to the chase.” He slid into the chair, slid his arm out of the tube’s straps and returned the easy smile with one of his own. “You have my partner. I want him back.” The man said nothing, merely removed the silver cover from one of the dishes on the table and began to serve himself.

“Join me for some dinner first?” He asked, uncovering several other platters of food Lupin only vaguely recognized. Kholodets, bliny, pelmeni… “Eat your fill.” It was evident that the man wasn’t taking anything about the situation seriously at the moment and Lupin’s finger itched slightly. He shouldn’t have left the Walther in the car… No, he could keep his head. After all, you got more flies with honey as they said. Breathing deeply, he reached out to snag some of the kholodets off the platter.

“You know, it’s not every day I meet a guy willing to chase me all the way across the country just because I stole a few paintings. I don’t even think we’ve been properly introduced.” It took the other man a while to respond as he tucked into the food on his plate and Lupin resisted the urge to scream. He hadn’t been lying about the tight schedule; Thirty minutes would be gone before he knew it.

“Nanochka Karaboss, and I believe I already told you, shchenok,” He paused to wipe his mouth clean. “I am very fond of that collection.” Okay, that was more like it. Lupin could work with that. He leaned forward, gripping the hollow tube in his hand and holding it out across the table.

“Which is why I’m willing to make a trade. The 1812 Collection by Vasily Vereshchagin. It’s right here.” Nanochka paid it no mind, and simply returned to the food on his plate.

“Vkusnyye. Did you know that these take seven hours to prepare?” He held up a forkful of kholodet before slurping it into his maw. “That amount of work deserves to be savored, wouldn’t you agree?” Lupin looked down at the meal on his own plate. He’d eaten something like this yesterday. No, he’d eaten _these_ yesterday. He wasn’t very familiar about the preparation of Kholodets, but he was certain these looked exactly the same as the ones he’d had days ago, hours ago, only yesterday. The pit in his stomach may have stolen his appetite away, but he knew that if he just took a forkful of the gelatin on his plate, took a bite, it would taste exactly the same.  
  
“Yeah…” He muttered, still looking at his plate. From across the table, the sounds of Nanochka smacking his lips continued to fill the air between them. He kept chewing for several moments before continuing the conversation.

“I’ve put a similar effort into maintaining the loyalty of my men as well. Did you hear the story several years ago? About the mob doctor who went off the deep end and killed himself?”

“I must have missed the news that day.” More smacking, more chewing.

“Quite tragic really. He’d worked as a doctor for the family for several years, but I caught him selling information about my men to the Politsya. Do you know what I did?” No. He didn’t. And he’d really rather not know.

“What did you do?” Another minute of smacking, another minute of chewing.

“I had his wife and daughter for dinner.” He replied casually. “And seven hours later, I invited him to join me.” Nanochka had put too much food in his mouth it seemed. No matter how much he dabbed at his jaws, there seemed to be a semi-permanent trickle of juices and wine running red out of the corners of his mouth. “That had been quite a flavorful dinner…” He finished by popping another slab of gelatin into his mouth, closing his eyes as he chewed, seeming to savor both the flavor and the memory of that night… “Excuse me. I did not mean to ramble on about the past. You said you had something for me?”

Lupin swallowed, then swallowed again, trying to clear the lump that had taken up residence in his throat. He glanced down at his plate, at the kholodets, thankful both that he hadn’t eaten so much as a forkful that night and that his appetite had apparently fled him. It wouldn’t have mattered if he’d been starving for weeks, nothing could make him touch the plate in front of him…

“The 1812 Collection…” He replied, surprised at how much his voice seemed to shake. He cleared his throat and looked dead ahead at Nanochka. He wouldn’t blink this time. “I want to make a trade.” Lupin held out the tube once more. Nanockha cocked a brow, looking at the container, curiosity evident in his gaze.

“And what would you like in return?”

“My partner. Alive.” Nanochka took the tube from Lupin’s fingers and opened the top to peer inside. His face remained stoic, revealing no trace of a reaction. Lupin felt sweat gradually collect on his brown and drip down his neck. _Come on, take it. Take the paintings, it’s exactly what you want…_

“That is all, shchenok?” Lupin gave a small start and quietly thanked some nameless deity that Nanockha was busy looking into the tube.

“Yeah.” The container closed, was handed back over the table to Lupin, and he saw Nanochka’s face twist into a smile that made his stomach curl in on itself. That wasn’t the smile of a man who’d just had a collection of extremely rare and valuable paintings returned to his possession.

That was something else.

Fuck…

“Dorogaya, prisoyedinyaysya k nam, ne tak li?” Nanochka had spoken to someone behind Lupin and he froze as the familiar sound of heels clicking across the ground. He knew those heels. He knew that gait. Hell, he probably didn’t even need to look to tell who it was, but he found his head turning around slowly to take in the flowing auburn locks, the swaying hips, the long legs… Any other time, they’d make his heart flutter and swoop with delight. Now, he couldn’t even stop the color draining from his face as the beautiful woman strode past him to stand at the side of the Mafioso, red lips smiling primly.

“...Fujiko?” An arm snaked around her waist and pulled her closer to Nanochka before Fujiko could even open her mouth. If Lupin had been more in his right mind, he would have noticed the way her brow twitched ever so slightly, barely betraying a hint of annoyance despite the smirk that remained on her face. As it were, his mind seemed to be on a semi-permanent loop of “fuck” and “shit” compounded by sheer terror at what Fujiko’s presence meant for the plan, meant for the paintings, meant for Ji-

“A charming young woman, no?” Nanochka tightened his grip on Fujiko, as oblivious to her annoyance as Lupin was and the thief found himself drawn from his trance. “It is a funny story, we found her attempting to flee Moscow shortly after we let you slip through our fingers with a collection of paintings that look suspiciously similar to the ones you just gave me…” He trailed off, eyes lingering on the tube that threatened to slip from Lupin’s fingers. “If that’s the case shchenok, what did you just give to me?” For quite some time, nobody said anything, nobody moved, it seemed as though no one could even breathe. And all the while, Lupin’s mind scrambled frantically.

_The can still work._

_You can still make this work._

_God fucking dammit you have to find **some** way to make this-_

“Alright, so you caught me with the forgeries.” He replied, smile returning to his face, slightly more forced than he would have preferred. So the paintings were out. Fine. There were always other options available. He just had to find the one that worked. “You are aware that I’m Lupin III, right? Just tell me what you want me to steal. Anything in the world and it’s yours.” Pause for effect, do not think about the tongue and fingers back in the Marussia… “Provided you keep up your end of the bargain, Nanochka.” This time, Nanochka didn’t even hesitate before breaking out into a booming laugh that made Lupin’s stomach dissolve. That wasn’t a good sign. 

“I ask for nothing, shchenok. Nothing that you can steal.” He reached into his lap, handing something off to Fujiko while nodding. “Instead, I would rather give something to you.” Fujiko said nothing as she rounded the table, still smiling in a way that didn’t quite reach her eyes as she deposited something in front of Lupin’s plate. 

A red box… 

“I don’t want it…” His reply was immediate and Nanochka shook his head the second he’d said it. 

“Nonsense. Open your gift.” Lupin eyed the box cautiously, thinking about what kind of fresh hell awaited him if he opened the box. Ears? Teeth? Nose? Feet? Eyes? 

“I lose.” Nanochka blinked, confused, and raised his eyebrows. 

“Prostite?” Lupin swallowed hard and didn’t respond immediately. Trying to pass off the forgeries as the paintings hadn’t worked. Offering to steal something for him hadn’t worked. From where Nanochka sat, it would seem as though Lupin was thoroughly out of options, backed into a corner with nowhere to turn. And everyone knew that the guards of men like Nanochka Karaboss were always at their lowest when they believed they’d won… 

“I lose. I lost. I concede. I admit defeat. I yield. I’ve been beaten. I’ve been bested. I get nothing. Good day sir. I lose.” That gave Nanochka pause. He said nothing for several moments, just met Lupin’s stare from across the table. It was only after minutes had passed that he stood up and walked around the table towards Lupin. The entire time, his face remained expressionless. The Boss stopped at the thief’s side and all at once, his hand snapped out and curled around the back of Lupin’s neck. Before he could even raise his voice in protest, he found his face shoved downwards, nose barely an inch from the tablecloth. And then Nanochka Karaboss’ voice hissed low and threatening in his ear. 

“You come into my city, my country, steal my property from under my nose and waltz away like a thief in the night after challenging me, Nanochka Karaboss, and now you wish to bow out of that challenge?” The hand on the back of his neck pushed down again and Lupin felt his face collide with solid wood. “I think not shchenok. You’re going to open the box, you’re going to continue to search for your partner one piece at a time, and you are going to lose the old fashioned way.” The hand disappeared and Lupin sat up straight, eyes looking straight forward. 

There was no other choice, was there. Nothing had worked, Goemon’s signal was still several minutes away and he didn’t think he could take on Karaboss and his men single handedly and come out on top. Slowly, as though trying to delay the reveal of what was inside it, he reached out and plucked the box off the table. It was light. Probably not filled with feet or hands or a head or- Lupin resisted the urge to give it a shake to try and her the rattle of teeth or toes or- The ribbon came off first, slowly untied and Lupin let it fall to the floor, breathing deeply as he tried to will his heart to slow down. 

_Just get it over with. Whatever’s in there, you can fix it as long as Jigen’s still alive. As long as he’s still alive, that’s what counts. As long as he’s alive you can-_

And then he removed the top from the box. 

And then he caught a glimpse of what was nestled in the tissue paper. 

And then he felt his limbs go slack and his arms fell to his side. 

“I suppose this is quite tragic.” Nanochka Karaboss was speaking from somewhere next to him. Lupin couldn’t quite be sure. He wasn’t even sure if Karaboss was talking to him at all. “No matter how hard you look, how fast you move, all that effort is pointless in the end. I suppose you were correct in conceding earlier. After all, what is the point of having a partner who cannot speak? Of a gunman that cannot hold his gun or even see in order to shoot?” Something brushed up against his side and he thought he might have fallen to the floor, contents of the box spilling out next to him. He wasn’t quite sure. From that weird place Karaboss was speaking to him, Lupin thought he heard the Mafioso give an annoyed sigh. “I do wish you could have lasted a little longer into our game, Arsène Lupin III.” Something metallic clicked next to his ear. “It would have been fun.” Perhaps the metallic thing that had clicked was now pressed to the back of his head. Lupin wasn’t that sure. 

He was a bit more preoccupied with the pale blue eyes that had rolled out of the box. 

There was something fundamentally wrong with the image of them on the floor. Something he couldn’t really place. Probably the fact that they were on the floor. In a box.  
  
_Blue eyes…_ Maybe Nanochka was right. Maybe there wasn’t a way to save Jigen after all. Maybe there was no point in trying at all. For all he knew, Jigen was already in pieces, scattered across Petropavlovsk-Kamchatskiy in red boxes wrapped with white ribbon. Had he really only seen Jigen yesterday? Had they really had lunch in a simple cafe hours ago? Had those eyes on the floor, in the box, been looking at Lupin from under the brim of a familiar battered fedora? 

_Blue eyes?_

And then he realized what was wrong with the eyes in the box, rolling on the floor while the cold muzzle of a gun pressed into his head from behind, Nanochka’s finger pressing against the trigger… 

_But Jigen’s eyes are grey…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To whoever guessed Fujiko was in "cahoots" with Nanochka, congratulations! You win the sinking sense of dread that shit is about to go wrong! I may have said something similar before, but Nanochka is one sadistic, magnificent bastard and I kind of love writing the sort of twisted shit his thinks of. It makes it all the more satisfying when he gets his eventual comeuppance... Special thanks go out to mookittens for their comments on the last chapter. Thanks to everyone who left Kudos as well. Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Before you flood the comments; yes. It's a real name. It's pronounced "tEEt." Here's a link to a site I found it on. (http://www.doukhobor.org/Russian-Masculine-Names.html) I know it's juvenile and kinda crass, but the idea of this big, intimidating Russian Mafioso named "Tit" was just way too good an opportunity to pass up. Kind of like the sharpshooter whose name roughly translates to "Hitting the mark," or the sadistic asshole whose name means "charitable" or "merciful." Irony at it's finest folks! In any case, the second and third chapters are mostly ready to go, but I'll be trying to divide my time between this, the Paper Moon, and They Remain. I also have a few ideas for some more Lupin the Third projects I'd like to pursue once I'm done with those two. In any case, happy reading and I'll see you in the next chapter!


End file.
